Cashmere Hilltops

Cashmere hilltops on the horizon
the landscape of my bedspread,
riddled
not with rose petals but Frito-Lays chips

and a candle drips in a straight line
of warm wax down, eclipsing the sunlight
as it cools and hardens
chips away
and the light falls onto the hills

An accord reached,
sometime before me
decided that
these millions of pixels
with sparks of energy
in a marriage of coloured prism
and tone and sound in every wavelength;
these would be marvelously fused
and sewn together in a broadcast

to sell me a compact disc compilation.